And Days Go By
by MoriMori
Summary: Weekly prompted one-shots:: Wk. 6 - Her job is to creep into others' souls, and suddenly Shikamaru realizes that he is just as vulnerable to her as they are. ShikaIno
1. Moonlight ::Neji::

Hyuuga Neji sleeps in a very precise manner. The pillow must be in the exact center of the bed, his head in the direct center of said pillow, his hands gently rested just under his sternum, and his legs laid at a forty-five degree angle. It's a habit, it's muscle memory, Neji can sleep no other way.

The problem begins when the Hyuuga decorating staff (yes, they have one) decides that the compound needs a bit of a facelift. Among other things, one widespread change is that all blinds are discarded and replaced with drapes or curtains. Neji notices it duly as he enters his bedroom after a long day of training, but he doesn't think twice about it. Blinds, curtains, really, what's the difference?

Two hours later as Neji lies in bed there is a deep frown etched on his features and a crack on moonlight shining directly onto his face. This is the difference.

The Hyuuga sits up and glares at the gap between the two curtains that allows the light to shine through. Then he looks down and glares and the shred of moonlight itself. Honestly, the _gall_ of that moonbeam to keep him awake when he had been looking forward to a good nights' sleep.

Neji tries pinning the two curtain panels together but the moonlight is forever visible through the diaphanous material. _On all the days for there to be a cloudless night…_

As soon as that thought enters his head, the moonbeam is gone. Peeking out, Neji can see a large gray cloud obscuring the moonlight. Nature has literally rearranged itself to meet Neji's needs, just as it damn well should. The Hyuuga falls asleep with a smirk on his face.

* * *

promt was: smirk.


	2. Can You See? ::Sakura::

"Good morning Sasuke-kun!"

It started like this every morning. The rosette would walk into his hospital room wearing a smile she knew he wouldn't notice, carrying a tray of food she knew he wouldn't eat, and yet she would still feel hopeful. Today he would be better. Today he would say hello. Today he would…care? No, no, that was pushing it.

The tray of food was placed on the side table next to his bed. "Just in case you want it…" Sakura said, her face turning pink to match her hair. The boy in the hospital bed was still unresponsive.

Sakura knew that he had been like this ever since he had come back—or rather, was dragged back—to Konoha. He would just lie in his hospital bed all day, looking like a living corpse. The doctors told her, always with a strange nervous expression on their faces, that one day, someday, he would be stable enough to leave.

Someday. Sakura held onto that word like it was her saving grace. _Someday_ Sasuke would be better, and she would be able to bring him out of this room and show him the light again. Until then, he was a vegetable, a living reminder of just how ridiculously convoluted Sakura's life had become.

"Everyone has been asking about you." Sakura continued quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly around him. She took a seat in the visitor's chair by his bed, "They all miss you. Everyone seems to think that you're never going to get out of here...but I know this is just until you get better."

Sakura frowned as she remembered how Ino had come up to her the other day in tears, moaning about how she wished Sasuke was still around one minute, and then turning around and cursing his betrayal the next. _"I miss him so much!! I know that you do too, Sakura…but…how could he leave us like that?! How could he?! Just leave us forever?!!" _Her shrieks had echoed through the streets of Konoha like a siren, and it had taken the pink-haired kunoichi hours to calm her friend down.

This was more than confusing to Sakura. Sasuke was going to get better one day, even if his last fight with the ANBU Konoha were forced to send after him had left him pretty mangled. Tsunade and the other medics had had to practically rebuild his legs, but he was still alive, still breathing. Sakura had waved Ino's dramatics off as just that; an overreaction.

Sasuke still said nothing.

"Er, you look—I mean, it's better…" Sakura fumbled around, looking for the right words. She felt so nervous around him still; that dark gaze, the apathetic look. He looked like the same boy—or rather, man—that Sakura had always known, but she knew that on the inside he was different. His mind had been changed, warped, distorted by the horrors in his life. And yet he had come out in one piece. It was a miracle, really.

The rosette reached out to trace her thumb across the smooth skin of Sasuke's cheek, not minding when he stiffened under her touch. The familiar reaction made her smile warmly. Even with all of his internal scars, Sasuke remained physically perfect.

"You're looking a lot better than you did when you first came back." Sakura said softly, pulling a small mirror out of her back pocket and holding it in front of him, which he took shakily. "You're not looking so pale…although I guess that you're naturally fair-skinned. I think it looks nice with your dark hair and eyes. Can you see?" Sakura was rambling now, and she pursed her lips as she finished, embarrassed.

He could see. As the boy peered sadly into the small, hazy mirror he could see very clearly. He could see that his skin was _not_ pale; it was a dark and tanned and scarred. His hair was not dark, and neither were his eyes. No, he could see his bushy head of dandelion-blond hair. His blue-eyed countenance stared back at him; those eyes were already gaining the cloudy glaze of someone who has seen far too much in a few years than anyone should see in a lifetime.

Most importantly, he could see that he was _not_ Sasuke. He was Naruto, and always would be, no matter how Sakura liked to convince herself otherwise.

Sasuke was gone and never coming back. But that was something Sakura could not accept. Naruto couldn't blame her, really. It was understandable to go a bit mad when someone close to you dies.

He was filled with the irrepressible guilt of watching his best friend be assassinated by Konoha and not being able to do anything. He was horrified at then having to watching his other teammate go so crazy with grief that she forgot reality completely. So Naruto made a deal with the doctors at Konoha Hospital. Let Sakura believe that Sasuke is still alive, he said, and I'll play the part.

"Yeah." The blond boy said gruffly, putting on his best imitation of Sasuke and handing Sakura her mirror back, "I see."

It had only been three noncommittal words, but they filled Sakura with unbelievable joy. "I-I'm glad Sasuke-kun." She said quietly, before leaning over to give the boy she believed was Sasuke a small peck, her lips ghosting over his shyly.

In another second she was gone, waving as she exited the hospital room, spouting promises that she would come back tomorrow morning, the same time as usual.

Naruto sighed sadly. One day, he knew, he would have to tell her the truth. One day she would have to come crashing down to Earth, and her delirium would swallow her whole, leaving nothing but the skeleton of the old Sakura behind. He dreaded that day with all his heart and soul.

But for now, his lies were the only thing keeping her alive.

* * *

prompt was: delirium.

::WON::


	3. Someone to Fix ::Sasuke and Suigetsu::

NOTE: this one takes place in a college AU. stfu i love college AUs. ;___;

* * *

"Oh, that's just Sasuke. He's never happy."

There was Suigetsu, running his mouth again. This time he was trying to impress a girl he had brought back to their dorm room (some hussy he had picked up at the student union, Sasuke assumed; he didn't know her or care to know her), but all she was interested in was the sullen Uchiha.

"Sasuke…? Oh…he just looks so sad." She sighed and said for the fifth time that evening. Regardless of the fact that she thought that he looked down and unhappy, the girl was still drawn to him like a moth to a flame; batting her long eyelashes, smiling slyly at him, her lips slightly pouted, the corners of her mouth turned up invitingly. Any other man, Sasuke knew, would have been attracted to her. But he was not, and would never be "any other man."

One thing, although he tended not to think about it too much, had always puzzled him, though; why did women find him so appealing? Of course there were some girls (the more rational ones, in his mind) that found him uptight and unattractive, Sasuke knew that, but for the most part, they all seemed to adore him unquestioningly. _Why?_ Why, when he had a stone cold demeanor and a life that offered nothing but cruel complication?

"Women always want someone they can fix, huh?" Suigetsu was now sitting beside him, and seemed to read his mind. Sasuke replied with a noncommittal "Hn."

Suigetsu elaborated, "I mean, the damn broad kept talking about how you looked so emo, but I bet she still wants to get in your pants, just because she wants to be the one who finally makes you happy." He chuckled bitterly, "Fuckin' shallow as hell, too."

Sasuke was more than surprised to hear something so logical come from his roommate's mouth. It all seemed to make sense now; women liked broken and unhappy men because they liked being special, and "fixing" an unhappy guy like him automatically made them special. Hmm, interesting--But not really; Sasuke didn't find many things interesting.

"…where did she go?" Sasuke asked, noticing the absence of the girl. He did not particularly care, but he needed something to fill the dead air around him, at least for the moment.

The reply was a half-hearted smirk. "I told her to go wait in the bedroom." Suigetsu replied, "But I'm not really feeling her, y'know?" He knew full well that Sasuke did _not_ know, but he said it anyway. "Besides, it sounds like she only likes guys who are never happy." He threw a knowing glance at Sasuke.

Never happy? Sasuke frowned; Suigetsu, that girl, no one knew anything about _happy._ You could not know happy until you had experienced the greatest pain—that was what Sasuke believed. He had been to the greatest pits of despair and back. Only now could he know what true happiness was. Unfortunately, nothing had made Sasuke feel truly happy, at least not yet. He had a feeling that his demanding college schedule had something to do with that. And also maybe the fact that he really didn't have many friends. And also maybe that he had no family or—Sasuke decided to stop thinking about it.

"I am…content." The Uchiha said finally, making a move to get off the couch and walk to his desk, where a pile of homework awaited him.

Suigetsu snorted, clearly not pleased with that answer, "C'mon, what do I have to do to get you to be happy and stop moping?"

"I am not _moping_." Sasuke said firmly.

"What do I have to do?" Suigetsu was equally firm in his reply.

Clearly, he was not going to let this go. So, sitting down at his desk and wondering what in the hell had possessed him to offer to be boarding mates with such an insufferable person, Sasuke responded, voice quiet; "You could send that girl away so I don't have to listen to her inane moaning all night. I'd like to get some sleep tonight."

That, apparently, was good enough for Suigetsu. "Can do, captain!" He said teasingly, getting up and heading toward the bedroom where the girl was waiting. Within a few minutes the girl was gone, walking sheepishly out of their dorm room. Would that still be considered a Walk of Shame?—Suigetsu wondered absentmindedly.

"Hey," he said, grinning toothily at Sasuke after the girl left, "You said you didn't want to listen to her 'inane moaning'—is that your way of complimenting me on my love-making skills?"

Sasuke bristled at the comment. "…go to bed, Suigetsu."

"You _love_ me, you think I'm _sexy_…!" Suigetsu replied in a sing-song voice; he really could not resist teasing his sullen roommate.

The Uchiha felt his shoulders go stiff with annoyance, but he brushed it off. "Go to bed." He repeated stubbornly, refusing to comment on Suigetsu's childish teasings.

"You just wanna jump me in my sleep." Came the quick reply.

"I happen to know you have a major History exam tomorrow. You're going to need all the sleep you can get." This was Sasuke's kind of teasing; it came with no particular inflection in his voice, or any real biting wit. What it did come with, however, was a glance back and a look in his eyes and lift of his brows that made it near-impossible to argue with whatever he said.

Suigetsu snorted, "Ch, like I care about that." But he was already heading towards his bunk. Once he had turned off the light and settled into his sheets, he glared over at Sasuke. "Happy now?"

Sasuke just turned on his desk lamp and opened a text book, "Yes." He said, surprised to find that it wasn't a complete lie.

* * *

prompt was: happy.

::WON::


	4. Cowards ::Shikamaru::

His team did not understand. Very few people would ever (_ever_) understand the merits of, well, _running away_. Shikamaru, however, understood those merits very well. _Too well_, according to some of his teammates.

They were foolish, ruled by hot-blooded impulses and living moment-to-moment. But Nara Shikamaru was the exact opposite; nothing about him was strikingly intimidating at first glance. The lazy drawl, the slumped posture, and dull look in his eyes all spoke to say that he was just another jaded ninja with no drive, no passion. It was an easy and convenient misconception for the Nara, and he was able to use it as an armor of sorts; what you see is not what you get.

There was only one instance in which that armor ever cracked. Killing Hidan, avenging Asuma; Shikamaru didn't dawdle around with his 'revenge', he just got the job done. But he had gone about it all wrong, and had adapted the same sort of traits he had once admonished in one Uchiha Sasuke. _What a hypocrite I am_, the Nara thought.

Strength and courage, to Shikamaru, was not the swiftness with which one acted their revenge, or the brute strength of their attacks. No, Shikamaru knows that courage is (very simply) one's ability to put aside his pride, his reputation, his impulses, _everything_, for the good of those that he loves.

Many would be cowards if they had courage enough.

* * *

prompt was: 15 sentence fic.


	5. Cracks ::Sakura and Itachi::

Before the massacre, before the betrayal, before everything, Itachi and Sakura met. It was the annual cherry blossom festival, and the young Sakura approached him with lips pursed in a secret smile that spoke of new-found confidence that she was itching to try out.

Sakura approached the older Uchiha nervously. She had heard about Itachi, everyone had. "D-Don't you think the cherry blossoms are lovely?" Sakura asked in greeting; she had always been fond of her namesake.

Itachi was not unkind, but rather indifferent. "They are beautiful, but useless." He replied stiffly. He was a prodigy, and yet Itachi was still uncomfortable around people in general.

Sakura felt offended, as if he was speaking about her and not the Sakura _blossoms_. She huffed away without saying another word, tears stinging at her eyes.

Well then! She would show him. She wasn't weak or useless. She would ignore that puzzled look on his face as she stomped away, and keep his unintentional insult in the back of her mind. One day, she would be strong. Surely, if she and Itachi ever met again, he would not remember her face, he wouldn't know her name, and yet the desire remained.

It stayed there always, only magnified by Sakura's intent to help Naruto rescue Sasuke, to show them as well that she was more than just a delicate cherry blossom, helpless before the winds of change.

Year later, when Sakura hears of Itachi's death, she slams her fist down on Tsunade's desk in frustration, hating the bittersweet feeling as the wood cracks under her fist.

* * *

prompt was: sakura.


	6. Bluffing ::Ino and Shikamaru::

"…Ino."

Shikamaru's voice comes out hoarse, and he pauses to clear his throat. Instead of answering his call, Ino just throws her teammate a small smile over her shoulder. Frowning slightly, Shikamaru wonders if Ino actually enjoys using her mind-transfer-jutsu to creep into others' minds. It seems quite unnatural to him; it's like climbing into someone else's soul, practically.

He spares another quick glance at Ino as she goes limp and her soul moves into the target's body. Dutifully, Shikamaru reaches out to catch her, cradling her gently in his arms. He notices, as her head lolls over to rest on his chest, that there is a smile on the blonde's face. And suddenly there is no doubt in Shikamaru's mind that Ino enjoys her mind infiltration.

As predicted, Ino's information gathering goes smoothly. When her mind and soul return to her rightful body, she lifts herself out of Shikamaru's arms and stretches her arms above her head. Almost unconsciously, Shikamaru's eyes follow the line of her back as it arches.

"Shikamaru…" Ino peers back at him, and he lifts his eyes to meet hers, "You do know that if I wanted to, I could use my mind-transfer-jutsu on you and read your thoughts? I would see _exactly_ what you think of me."

She's bluffing. Shikamaru knows this. He knows her near-constant need to tease him. "That's a lie."

"Then," She's grinning, "why do you look so nervous?"

Too late, Shikamaru realizes that his face is beet red. Well, shit. He has no answer for her.

Ino strolls in front of him triumphantly. A whole new set of less-than-innocent thoughts about the blonde in front of him appear inside Shikamaru's head, and he struggles to keep his eyes off of her.

This was going to be an awkward walk home.

* * *

prompt was: infiltrate.


	7. Too Late ::Ino and Shikamaru::

"Shikamaru, pay attention!!"

Ino was eight years old and already in a prime state of bossiness. The Yamanakas, the Naras, and the Akimichis, all being such good friends, had arranged for a play-date for Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji. Unfortunately for the two boys 'play-date' equated to 'listening-and-doing-whatever-Ino-says.'

Ino had decided to dedicate this play-date to teaching Shikamaru and Chouji about the meanings of flowers. Chouji, being as meekly polite as he was at eight years old, was sitting cross-legged in front of Ino, hands clasped together and laid in his lap. Shikamaru on the other hand, was lying on his back across the room.

"Right now, Shikamaru!" Ino was none too pleased by her other student, who was doing his best to ignore everything she was saying.

The young boy flopped over on to his stomach and gave her a half-lidded look. "Why do I have to listen to you anyway?" He drawled.

Ino stood up, hand on her hips, and stamped her foot firmly on the ground, pouting in the way that little girls do when they don't get their way. "Because our parents put _me_ in charge! Now stop being a lazy ass and get over here!!"

The young boy was so taken aback by her anger that he just sighed and trudged over to the flowers that Ino had laid out on a blanket in front of her. "That's not such appropriate language." Shikamaru scolded, though he really didn't mean it.

"I hear my parents use that word all the time. I'm plenty mature to be using it! Now pay attention!" Ino sat down and pointed at Shikamaru warningly before gesturing to the flowers she had laid out. "This is a honeysuckle. It represents affection, mostly. And this is an iris which can mean a lot of things like hope, faith, valor, or wisdom. And here's some baby's breath, which is mostly an accent flower—"

Shikamaru leaned to his right and whispered to Chouji, "Is she really expecting us to remember all of this?"

Chouji's face went red; he was actually actively paying attention to Ino's lesson. Girls liked flowers, right? And if he ever wanted to get a girl it would help if he knew what flowers to give her. "Um…"

"Oh man, this is so _troublesome_." Shikamaru had abandoned any attempt to pay attention to Ino and flopped down on to his back.

Ino looked visibly livid, but rather than raining her anger down on him she simply took a deep breath, picked up the last flower she had laid out and strode over to him. "Here." She said, dropping it on to his chest.

"Ow-!" Shikamaru glanced down to see a red rose plopped on his stomach. One of the thorns had taken the liberty of poking at his sternum uncomfortably. He picked it up, twirling it between his fingers. "…What's this for?"

Ino rolled her eyes, as if the answer was obvious. "Well you're going to need it. Let's face it Shikamaru, you're awful with girls. I couldn't think of a single person who would ever in a million years want to date you, so I think you need all the help you can get. A single red rose in full bloom is the simplest way of telling someone 'I love you'. It's basically the equivalent of giving your heart to someone! Totally romantic."

He still wasn't getting it, she could tell. "_So,_ one day when you actually fall in love with some girl, give that to her. And then when you get married and you're super happy you'd better thank me!" With that, Ino frowned, kicked Shikamaru in the side and huffed off.

"… Bitch." Shikamaru mumbled, dropping the rose and clutching his side. Chouji looked on in silence; never had he seen two people who were quite so perfect for each as just then.

Thirteen years later, Shikamaru pulled that same rose out of his jacket pocket. For some reason he couldn't explain at the time, he had brought the flower home and pressed it gently between two large books, forever preserving it. After such a long time it was, admittedly, worn down and brittle, but Shikamaru handled it with gentle hands.

Leaning down, he gingerly placed the rose on top of the mound of dirt in front of Ino's grave.

It had always belonged to her anyway.

* * *

prompt was: death.


End file.
